


See the Forest for the Trees

by mistynights



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Child Abuse, Found Family, Gen, I don't know what else to tag this as, Kinda, Misgendering, Mystery, No obscurus, Nonbinary Character, Trans Male Character, forest, it's pretty brief though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23323783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistynights/pseuds/mistynights
Summary: A forest appears in the middle of New York one night. After all the MACUSA's attempts to explore it fail, they ask Newt for help, arguing a creature may be the responsible for their disappearing scouting parties. It soon becomes clear, though, that the forest is much more than initially predicted.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 40
Collections: HP TransFest 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt 55** Copy and paste the following link into your browser: https://tvtropes.org/ and click the blue "Random Trope" button in the upper right. The first trope you land on is the prompt for your story. Pick a character you're inspired to write about for the prompt and write about them. The character you pick is also trans. Likes: satire, flipping a trope on its head.  
>  **Trope:** [Don't Go in the Woods](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DontGoInTheWoods)
> 
> So, I didn't manage the satire, but there's some trope subversion. Kind of. Hopefully that's enough.
> 
> Thank you to Acid and Chaos for doing sensitivity and beta reading for me!!

Queenie wakes her up early at dawn, far too early, if the still dark sky is anything to go by. Tina opens her eyes only to glare at her sister, but Queenie’s whole face seems to shine with unspoken words. She sighs, moves around the bed to sit up and properly look at Queenie.

“There’s a forest outside,” Queenie says, eyes serious despite the smile on her lips. Tina frowns. For a moment she thinks maybe she’s still dreaming. Queenie laughs at that. “You’re awake, silly, I would know.”

“We’re in the middle of the city,” she says once she manages to find her words. “There are barely any trees around, let alone a forest.”

“I know. That’s what makes it exciting.”

***

There is, Tina finds out once she leaves the house ten minutes later, a forest outside. Or what seems like the entrance to one. It stands just a few feet away from their house’s entrance, thick and menacing and tall, and Tina has to pinch her arm to check, again, if she’s asleep. With the slight pain, Queenie’s words come back as well. She was also correct about the being awake part, it seems.

Queenie is right behind her, the smile still wide and bright on her face. “See? I told you so.”

“Sorry I didn’t believe you,” Tina replies and turns back to stare at the forest with wide eyes. It seems to swallow the street and the houses, making a clear division between the parts that are forest and the parts that aren’t.

“It’s fine,” Queenie says with a shrug. She takes one last look at the forest, intertwines her arm with Tina’s and begins walking towards Woolworth Building. “This is gonna be a fun one to figure out.”

***

Tina gets swiped away to a meeting the moment they set foot inside the MACUSA. Queenie waves her goodbye before walking to her desk.

“This is a serious matter,” Director Graves is saying when Tina enters the room. The Madam President stands next to him by the table, looking at what seem to be photographs of the forest, taken from different parts of the city.

“Good morning,” Tina says and walks towards the table to join the others. They both spare her a look and nod in greeting, but soon go back to staring at the photographs. Tina can’t blame them, not when she’s seen the situation with her own two eyes. “Do we know how far it reaches?”

“We can’t know for sure,” the Madam President replies. “We have no communication with the quarters on the other side of the forest. We won’t know if we don’t go into it.”

“Are we?” Tina asks. When both of them look at her with equal frowns in their faces, she adds, “going in, I mean.”

Director Grave’s face is somber as he replies.

“None of the spells we’ve tried on it have helped understand it or get rid of it,” he says. “We have no other way of knowing what we are up against.”

***

The first party they send into the forest doesn’t make it back. They stop hearing from them an hour after they set foot past the barrier of trees, and finally decide to consider them lost a week later.

There’s no better luck with the second party, or the third. The moment they lose communication with the fourth, the Madam President calls an emergency meeting with all Aurors left in the building. They’re barely more than thirty.

“We need a new course of action,” she says, voice as strong as ever, even though there’s a frantic edge that coats it. Mumbles travel through the room increasingly concerned with every passing second. Finally, a man stands up, clears his throat. The Aurors on the chairs next to his look at him intently, nod and mutter, as if to give him strength.

“What if,” he finally says. His voice has a certain shake to it, like that of a man who doesn’t believe in what he’s about to say. Tina closes her eyes, braces herself for literally anything. He clears his throat again before continuing, “what if a creature is causing the disappearances?”

Tina opens her eyes, slightly shocked. At the front of the room, she can see the Madam President and Director Graves exchange a look. He stands from his seat and looks around the room with uneasy eyes.

“That’s a plausible theory,” he says. He pauses then, looking at the ground with a thoughtful frown before continuing. “There’s no one in our ranks with the experience and knowledge needed to tell for sure. If there really is a creature, sending more people will only make us lose more Aurors.”

The mood in the room seems to fall even more, if that were possible. The mumbling in the room starts up again, louder, more agitated. Tina knows, without having to think too much on it, that they are running out of ideas. If no one else can come up with something soon, people are going to start panicking. And they all know very well what the effects of panic can be.

Tina closes her eyes again. Around her, the mumbling grows louder, fills the room, wraps around everything and everyone. There’s a certain kind of panic about the noise, an obvious attempt to come up with something,  _ anything _ , that might help, that might point them in the right direction. And Tina is trying to focus, trying to make her thoughts swim against the noise, trying, like everyone else, to find a way to help. But she  _ can’t _ . She can’t think and the noise keeps getting louder and she can almost taste the fear around her and—

“I know someone,” Tina shouts above the noise. And, like coming up for air after being too long underwater, the noise stops. The Madam President is looking at her with expectant eyes, and Tina can almost see the relief clear in her face. She takes a breath and repeats, “I know someone.”

***

Technically speaking, Tina doesn’t know Newt Scamander, not personally; she knows of them, has read some of their papers and essays about fantastic creatures—not that she’s ever been overly invested on the field of magizoology, but Queenie kind of is, so there’s always at least one book on the topic lying around the house. She also knows their brother, Theseus Scamander—also thanks to Queenie, though Tina has promised never to tell that story, so she refuses to even think about it.

She doesn’t tell this to Director Graves or the Madam President. She just tells them that she knows someone in Great Britain who could perhaps help them. The statement is met with uncertain looks, and whispered words, but finally, the Madam President looks at her in the eye and nods.

“Do what you must.”

Tina has no illusions. She knows her words sound shady at best and outright illegal at worst. She knows there would be questions and reprimands if they weren’t all so desperate. As it is, she gets two equal nods and free rein to do whatever she deems necessary.

Tina nods as well and leaves the office, already drafting in her head the letter she’ll send Theseus Scamander.


	2. Chapter 2

There’s a letter from Theseus waiting for Newt in their home. That in itself isn’t an odd occurrence. The letter says _Come to the Ministry at your earliest convenience_. Now that is odd, but not enough to worry Newt. What does worry them, though, is Theseus' face when they reach his office at the Ministry. He’s pale, eyes slightly wide, a piece of paper clutched in one hand as his head rests on the other. He barely even registers Newt coming in and sitting next to him.

“Theseus?” Newt asks, and their brother startles. He looks lost, almost, like he’s just come up from underwater. “You needed me here?”

“Yes,” Theseus says, and his voice, at least, sounds steady. He’s not afraid, Newt doesn’t think so, but there’s an edge of urgency to his movements, to the look in his eyes. He clears his throat and straightens up on the chair. “Remember how you weren’t allowed to travel to America last year?”

***

There’s a forest in New York that shouldn’t be there. That’s about as much as Newt manages to get from Theseus’ quick explanations, uttered in between packing and reviewing passports and tickets. The MACUSA’s Madam President has requested Newt by name to visit New York and try to figure out as much as they can about the forest.

“I’m not a herbologist,” Newt mutters when Theseus’ recount of the facts reaches this point. He looks at them with that same urgent gaze, shrugs after a second has passed.

“I don’t have the details,” he says. “I was only told that they think you might be able to help.”

“But I’m a magizoologist,” they say, desperate, because none of this makes sense; not a forest appearing in the middle of the night, not Theseus’ attitude, not their presence being requested to deal with said forest. Nothing makes sense.

“Newt, I know. I understand about as much as you do.” He turns from the clothes he’s helping them pack and looks them in the eye. “But this seems important and you’ve always liked to help. And, it’ll give you an excuse to stay in the States for some time and do whatever it was you were going to do last year.”

They sigh and look at their suitcase with a frown. They can’t travel with all of their creatures, so they’ve chosen the ones that need their attention the most, leaving the others under Theseus’ care.

“I wish I could take them all with me,” they say. Theseus rolls his eyes before going back to folding and packing Newt’s clothes. From their coat pocket, Pickett chirps happily. He’s never minded traveling much, so long as he can stay close to Newt.

“They’ll be fine,” Theseus reassures them. “You’ve shown me how to look after them at least a hundred times. I could probably do it in my sleep by now.”

“I know. It’s just that I’ll miss them.”

Theseus rolls his eyes again before snapping the suitcase close.

“All done,” he says, offering Newt the case’s handle. “Now come on, we don’t want you to miss the ship.”

***

They can’t see the forest from the ship as it reaches the coast. On the one hand, that’s a shame, because Newt’s curiosity has been piqued with the sparse details they’ve received. On the other, it’s a relief, because it means that the forest’s reach isn’t as great as they’d first anticipated.

Newt leaves the ship behind and goes through the customs process with skittish, quick movements. The man on the other side of the table gives them a wary look, but everything about their papers and their belongings seems to be in order, so there’s no reason for him to keep them longer than necessary.

Outside the harbor, a couple of people in long dark coats wait with somber faces. The one on the left holds a sign with Newt’s name in it, so they walk towards the pair with an unintentional spring of anticipation to their steps.

***

“Can you help, then?” The man, Director Graves, apparently, asks Newt. The three of them have reached the edge of the forest closer to the harbor and are currently looking up at the treetops that tower over their heads. Newt sighs, their hand tightening on the handle of their suitcase.

“I can try,” they say, because they can almost see the desperation that seems to drift off in waves from the Aurors. “I’m curious, though. Why ask me? It’s not like plants are my expertise.”

Pickett, now sitting on Newt’s shoulder, makes an angry noise. Newt sighs again, biting the inside of their cheek to keep themself from telling him that Bowtruckles are not, in fact, plants. The two Aurors, exchange a look, as if debating whether or not to tell Newt something. Newt waits patiently for the others to make up their minds, looks at the trees, tries to see anything that might tell them something about the forest’s origins.

“If I may be frank,” Auror Goldstein says after another moment, “all of the parties we’ve sent into the forest have gone missing. We think there might be some kind of creature inside that is taking them.”

Newt blinks, opens their mouth, closes it again. Their presence here makes sense now, they think. It raises other questions, though.

“What am I expected to do if there actually is a creature,” they ask. Director Graves sighs and stares at the ground for a second before looking back at them.

“Whatever you deem necessary,” he replies, but there’s something in his tone that tells Newt he’s not happy about saying it.

***

It takes the MACUSA a whole extra week to decide what to do now that Newt is here. Auror Goldstein sends them an apologetic note to the room they’re staying at, but Newt assures her they aren’t bothered. They spend the days inside their suitcase, with their creatures, making sure they are aware of what is sure to come.

They’ve made sure to bring with them, along with those creatures that need their special attention, those that might be able to help in any way; trackers to help find whatever hides in the forest, venomous creatures to defend themselves, creatures who can help cure most ailments, any and all that Newt thinks can lend a hand—or a paw, or a wing or a horn or. Even if no one knows what awaits them on the tree barrier’s other side, Newt has found that it’s better to be prepared than to regret it later.

Finally, on the eighth day of their stay in New York, Director Graves knocks on Newt’s door and tells them the group they’ve arranged will be leaving in an hour. That doesn’t give Newt much chance to plan, but at least they have everything they need inside their suitcase.


	3. Chapter 3

Credence is often afraid. He fears the streets and the sky and the sea. But most of all, Credence fears home and he fears Mother.

She is always there, always present. She knows the things he does even when he tries really hard to hide his actions. She knows the things he whispers in the dead of night. She knows the places he visits when he drifts off during their walks around town. She  _ knows _ ; the things he hides and the ones he doesn’t. She’s a constant, and she scares Credence more than any story of hell or death or pain.

There is, though, one thing she doesn’t know. One thing that Credence has done his very best to keep hidden. It’s a painful secret to keep, but Credence has grown up in Mother’s home, has learned that sometimes, silence is the only way of surviving.

Mother still calls him Purity; still dresses him in simple dresses; still puts his hair in braids like his sisters’. Still calls him  _ my little girl _ .

And it hurts, it really does; Mother’s words and actions ache and burn deep inside of him. But when he can’t even bear to think about the alternative, Credence supposes that his silence in the matter is better than nothing.

***

His sisters know, of course. They were the first to find out, right after that woman, Tina, who Credence met on the streets one day and who seemed able to  _ see  _ the secret inside of his heart. He’d been unable to keep it from her when she’d apologized for his mother’s actions. But his sisters had been next, that very same night.

Chastity and Modesty read his secret in a note written only for their eyes, and then burned to ashes on the stove’s fire. They read the secret and then hugged him like their lives depended on it, and then they never said anything about it, not when they know Mother’s ears are always listening, always waiting for a chance to call their misbehaviors. Because the two of them have lived under Mother’s roof all their lives, too; because they, too, know the consequences of acting out of line.

So, when they are alone—only when they  _ know _ they are truly alone—his sisters call him Credence, call him brother. And together, the three of them stand in the vastness of the Second Salem Church, and they  _ survive _ .

***

And then it happens, the one thing they’ve all been expecting, fearing. It’s really no one’s fault. It’s just a coincidence, a slip of tongue, an unlucky day.

One second they're alone, and the next Mother is coming through the door just as Modesty is calling him  _ brother _ , and it all seems to explode around them.

Much later, when the moon is high in the sky and Credence lays on his cot—sore and bruised, pillow drenched on his own tears—he wishes, with all the strength he has left, that there was a place where he and his sisters could be safe.


	4. Chapter 4

Tina charms a little handbag to fit everything she’ll need to take with her. From her room’s doorway, Queenie stands with her arms crossed over her chest, and the closest thing to a frown Tina has seen on her in a long time.

“You can’t just go without me,” Queenie says, not for the first time that afternoon. Tina sighs, hastily packing a set of healing potions. She needs to be prepared, since there really is no way of telling how long they’ll be inside the forest, what kinds of dangers they’ll encounter.

“It’s not my call to make, Queenie,” Tina replies, also not for the first time. Queenie shifts her weight from one foot to the other and  _ pouts _ .

“You wouldn’t even have their information if it weren’t for me.” She’s talking about Mx. Scamander, of course. She has been talking about meeting them since she heard the MACUSA had asked them to come and help. And really, Tina should have seen that coming, because Queenie likes creatures, and she’s read just about everything Mx. Scamander has ever published, and she likes the way they write, the way they talk about creatures as if they were quirky people.

Tina doesn’t hate creatures, of course, but she doesn’t get that kind of attitude. And that’s fine. Queenie and her and close enough that they can agree that their passions don’t have to always be the same.

“I know,” she finally says. “But, like I said, it’s not up to me.”

Queenie frowns—really frowns—for just a second before her lips twist in a mischievous smile. The kind of smile that announces she’s up to no good. Queenie laughs at that.

“Don’t worry, Teenie,” she says and begins to walk away from the room’s doorway. “I’m just going to have a little talk with Mr. Graves.”

***

Somehow—and Merlin only knows how—Queenie has managed to convince Director Graves to take her with their little group. Tina sighs in defeat, knowing there’s nothing to do now except to go along with it.

“Cheer up,” Queenie whispers as they stand in front of Mx. Scamander’s place. “One would think you aren’t thrilled to have me along.”

“You know it’s not that,” Tina replies, equally quiet. And it’s the truth, really. She doesn’t mind having Queenie along. Unlike most other people, Tina doesn’t underestimate her sister just because she’s soft and kind. Tina  _ knows _ Queenie, knows the things she’s capable of, knows that she can survive out in the world on her own.

Knowing all of this, though, doesn’t make her worry any less. They don’t know what awaits them on the other side, they don’t know what to expect. It’s not like anyone can blame Tina for wanting her sister to be safe.

“I’ll be fine,” Queenie says, a hand on Tina’s arm. And she sounds so sure, so confident, that Tina has no option but to nod and hope she’s right.

***

When they reach the edge of the forest again, all four of them stand in awkward silence.

“So this is it,” Mx. Scamander finally says, breaking the silence. Next to them, Director Graves nods. They all look at the trees, standing as tall and menacing as always. For a moment, Tina thinks that this isn’t worth it. There’s something powerful about the forest, something that seems to scream  _ stay away _ at the top of its lungs. Would it be that bad to just let it be?

Queenie, knowing her thoughts, puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. Tina closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and then turns to look at the others, determination growing in her chest.

“Yes. This is it,” she says, and begins walking towards the forest.

***

On the inside, the forest makes her even more uneasy than on the outside. It makes sense, of course, but logic isn’t reassuring when a shiver travels through Tina’s spine with every step the group takes. Next to her, Queenie looks at the treetops—far taller than it should have been possible—with a combination of awe and uneasiness. Tina feels just a little vindicated, knowing she’s not the only one who feels the forest.

“I’ve never seen magic like this,” Graves says, looking around with a deeper frown than usual. “A spell this big would have to be cast by someone really powerful. But the MACUSA would’ve noticed someone with this kind of power walking around the city.”

“Someone this powerful could have possibly been able to hide the power from you,” Mx. Scamander says, though they look away when Graves sends them an annoyed glare.

Tina has to agree with them, though. If there’s a person capable of making a forest like this one appear in the middle of the night, it wouldn’t have been hard for them to remain hidden from the Aurors. The thought is not a comforting one. Most of her life has relied on them being one step above everyone else in the magic world; always able to see what happens, always able to react before situations get out of hand. It’s a foolish thought, she knows. Not even the MACUSA can know everything that happens in the magic world. And yet, faith in someone more capable than her is what has allowed her to keep her head and her sanity.

***

There’s no way of leaving the forest, Merlin knows they’ve tried. The forest is bigger than it seems at first glance, and no matter how long they walk, they never seem to reach the edge.

“There’s a lot of pain,” Queenie says when they raise their tents to rest. They’ve been walking for hours, though it’s hard to tell exactly how much time has passed. Director Graves opens his mouth, a confused look on his face, but Queenie continues talking before he can speak. “In the forest, I mean. It’s overwhelming. The kind of pain that has grown and grown until it’s out of control.”

Tina feels yet another shiver forming at the base of her spine at Queenie’s words. Director Grave’s face is stony and unreadable, as it so often is, but his lips twitch minutely down. Mx. Scamander, sitting on the ground in front of Tina, looks at the nearest tree with a pinched expression. Tina isn’t as good at reading people as Queenie is, but she swears there’s worry in Mx. Scamander’s face; not about being in the forest, though, but worry  _ for  _ the forest.

“Are you saying it’s alive?” Director Graves asks after a second, voice hoarse and unusually quiet. Queenie looks around with a thoughtful expression before shaking her head.

“I don’t think so,” she says. “But someone inside this forest is in a lot of pain. Has been for some time, I think.”

“Maybe the forest is protecting that someone,” Mx. Scamander says, voice barely more than a whisper. And the thought makes Tina shake to her core.


	5. Chapter 5

From under their coat’s lapels, Pickett chirps in distress as they all cross through the tree barrier that marks the edge of the forest. Newt offers him a hand for him to climb into, but Pickett just burrows deeper into their coat. They frown. Pickett is, admittedly, not the bravest of Bowtruckles, but for him to be  _ this _ afraid can’t be a good sign.

Newt sighs. Nothing they can do now but carry on walking. They’ve given their word that they’ll do what they can to solve this mystery. And, if they’re being honest with themself, being in the forest proper has only made them even more curious than before.

There’s something undeniably powerful about the forest. Maybe it’s a creature, maybe it’s a person, maybe it’s the forest itself. In any case, Newt has to know what it is, has to find a way to help.

***

They set camp after hours of walking. Auror Goldstein sets a fire and the four of them talk in hushed tones for some time before silence envelops them again. It’s then that Newt stands and begins collecting little pieces of the forest; fallen leaves and grass blades and pieces of the tree trunks. From his new position on their shoulder, Pickett helps them hold the samples.

“You think we can help,” a voice says from their side, startling them out of their work. Auror Goldstein’s sister is standing there, an inquisitive look in her eyes. Her name is Queenie Goldstein, Newt has learnt, and she is a Legilimens, there with them to help sense if there’s a human threat lurking behind the shadows.

“Not for sure,” Newt replies and straightens up to their full height. “I would like to think there’s something we can do.”

“You are concerned,” she says. It makes Newt twitch slightly, the way her words fall so sure out of her mouth. She knows their mind, of course, knows their thoughts. She can say, without a doubt, the emotions that cross through their head. “Not for the same reasons as Tina or Mr. Graves, though. You fear they will hurt whoever is causing the forest.”

Newt takes a moment to look back at the camp. The other two are deep in hushed conversation, too focused on their words to pay attention to what’s happening a few steps away.

“I do,” they say after a second. “Aurors tend to be the kind to act before asking questions. I mean your sister no ill, but I’ve seldom encountered an Auror willing to look at the world from a different perspective than their own.”

Miss Goldstein laughs, a soft, pleasant sort of sound.

“You can call her Tina, you know, she won’t mind,” she says, her smile bright as ever. Then, as an afterthought, “and you can call me Queenie. I don’t mind either.”

“I’d prefer to discuss it with her first. It’d be the polite thing to do,” Newt replies, fidgeting with one of the leaves they picked up. They can guess, judging by her expression, that she intends to press the subject, so they clear their throat and gestures towards their suitcase lying in the ground. “Would you like to help me with this?”

***

Inside the suitcase, Queenie systematically goes through every one of Newt’s shelves. They’ve reluctantly agreed to call her by her first name, which seems to please her about as much as being in the shed does. From time to time, she makes a soft cooing noise, or lets out a sound of surprise, or mutters something so quiet under her breath that Newt can’t make out the meaning of it.

While she investigates, Newt takes the samples and puts them inside of little vials, organizes them in groups according to each of their characteristics. They stand there, looking at the vials for a long time, almost willing the samples to tell them something they don’t know yet about the forest.

From behind them, Queenie makes a particularly curious sound. Newt turns to look at what she’s found, but the sound of someone coming down the stairs gives them pause.

“Teenie, look,” Queenie says. Auror Goldstein, for it can be no one but her, makes a humming sound, looks around at the shed with a raised eyebrow.

“Director Graves would like you to keep watch outside,” she says once she’s reached the floor. Queenie pouts, but puts down the book she’d been holding. “You wanted to come and help, Queenie. Being able to warn us if someone is coming is what convinced him to bring you along.”

Queenie sighs and nods. She’s out the suitcase quicker than Newt could have expected.

***

“What have you found, then?” Auror Goldstein asks. Her eyes are focused on the groups of samples sitting on the table.

“That we’re in a forest,” Newt says. Auror Goldstein gives them an unimpressed look that makes them duck their head, though there’s the hint of a smile playing on their lips. “Sorry. It’s just, I’ve told you before; my field is magizoology. I don’t know as much about plants as I do about creatures.”

“Why the samples, then, Mx. Scamander?” Auror Goldstein asks, her gaze back on the vials.

“Call it wishful thinking, I suppose. I was hoping to find a clue, find something that could help us.” They sigh, lean their weight against one of their tables. “Oh, and just Newt is fine.”

Auror Goldstein looks at them for a second before nodding.

“I suppose Queenie has told you to call me Tina,” she says. Newt opens their mouth to reply, but she shakes her head with a smile. “It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

Newt nods as well, smiles at her. They open their mouth again, but their words are interrupted once more, this time by some commotion coming from outside the suitcase.

***

Newt and Tina exit the suitcase in a rush. Outside, Queenie and Director Graves stand with their wands on their hands. In front of them, a man stands, arms raised and a pinched expression on his face. On a reflex, Newt pulls their wand out of their coat, though they keep it down; ready, but not threatening. Out of the corner of their eye, they can see Tina doing the same.

“Oh,” the man says when he spots the two of them moving closer, “more of you.”

His voice sounds giddy, breathless. He doesn’t seem fully afraid, but there’s nervousness coating his words. Newt’s eyes narrow as they reach Queenie’s side. There’s a moment of silence as the four of them inspect the man, and he, in turn, stares at the four of them with wide eyes.

“I mean no harm,” the man says finally, words shaking slightly with uncertainty. Another tense second passes before Queenie nods and lowers her wand.

“He’s telling the truth. He’s been living in the forest with some children he found,” she says. The man gives her a wary look, but it lasts only a second before it melts into a bright smile.

“Exactly. Usually, they live a few blocks away from my place. I wasn’t expecting to find them here, but I couldn’t leave them on their own,” he explains, words quick and stumbling over each other. Director Graves hesitates a second more before lowering his wand as well. The man visibly relaxes in his spot in front of them. He takes a moment to wipe his forehead before speaking up again. “I didn’t know there were other people here besides us, but I can’t say I’m not glad to see you people. I could show you to our camp, if you wanted. We could all find a way out together.”


	6. Chapter 6

Credence wakes up to a soft breeze in his face. He’s lying on his side, like he was when he fell asleep, but the surface underneath him is too soft to be his cot. With a startle, Credence sits up, looking around him. The sight isn’t any less worrying. Around him, a hundred trees rise from the ground, covering the sky with their leaves, with just enough space for some rays of sunshine to touch the ground. Underneath him, a soft bed of moss and fallen leaves covers the ground.

From some distance away, Credence can hear his sisters’ voices, hushed but giddy, and someone else’s; a man’s, he thinks, though it’s hard to know for sure from afar. His insides fill with fear as he follows the voices through some of the trees and into a clearing not too far away from where he’d been sleeping.

He sees his sisters sitting there, a man he doesn’t recognize standing in front of them with a pot in his hands. There’s a small fire burning at the man’s feet and his sisters seem to be happy enough huddling next to it. There’s a slight chill in the air, Credence notices, though he’s only vaguely bothered by it. He’s had worse, back at the Church, and he knows the same is true for his sisters.

“Hello there,” the man says, waving a hand at Credence. He shrinks into the nightgown Mother always makes him wear for bed, wraps his arms around himself. His sisters turn towards him and the three of them share a long look before Chastity stands and walks towards him.

“Do you remember Mr. Kowalski? The baker from down the street that Mother doesn’t like?” she asks, voice quiet, as she wraps him in a hug. Credence frowns, the memory of a kind, friendly man always willing to give them some bread for free whenever Mother forgot to feed them. Though the man’s face is blurry in his mind, his actions are as vivid as if they’d just happened. Chastity nods. “He says this forest appeared out of nowhere during the night and he decided to explore it.”

“How did  _ we _ end up here?” Credence asks, voice shaking imperceptibly. Chastity shrugs.

“We were here when I woke up,” she says. “Modesty saw Mr. Kowalski come through the forest about an hour ago.”

“You should’ve woken me up.”

“I didn’t feel like we were in any real danger.” Chastity takes a step back to look him in the eye, though her hands remain at his sides. “You deserved some rest after last night.”

***

When the four of them sit down around the fire, Credence keeps his eyes on Mr. Kowalski. It’s not that he thinks the man will hurt any of them, but trusting adults has never taken him anywhere. And neither has hoping for a better place for him and his sisters.

He remembers, from the depth of his soul, the time he met Tina.  _ Come here, _ he remembers, his eyes fixed on a rectangular piece of paper,  _ if you ever want to leave that place.  _ He remembers paper burning on the stove, remembers shouting, remembers hands landing a bit too hard against skin. He remembers that the pain of shattering hopes is sharper than that of bruises and cruel words.

So he doesn’t trust adults; doesn’t trust hope. Except—well, there’s something different about the forest, something—dare he say— _ magical _ . Something that almost makes him think that Mother won’t be able to find them here now.

***

They camp with Mr. Kowalski that night. As the fire burns bright around them, Modesty creeps next to him.

“He has a pair of scissors,” she whispers, looking around to make sure no one but Credence hears her. From her spot on the other side of the fire, Chastity frowns, but doesn’t call Mr. Kowalski’s attention to the two of them.

“What for?” Credence asks, his voice quiet as well. Modesty’s eyes shine with an emotion that Credence has learned to fear on most occasions.

“To cut your hair,” she replies. Credence frowns, takes the tip of one of his braids and looks at it. Modesty lets out an annoyed sigh. “You always complain about how you hate long hair. Chastity can cut it for you, if you want.”

***

Mr. Kowalski is surprisingly unfazed at the request to use his scissors to cut Credence’s hair. He does, however, look shocked when Credence mutters a soft  _ thank you  _ that breaks halfway through.

“Of course,” he says, and his usual kind smile draws itself on his lips. “Nothing wrong with a young lady with short hair.”

Credence flinches, which earns him a pinch on his side by Chastity, who’s trying to measure the best length to cut it all. He considers, for a second, bearing Mr. Kowalski’s comment, like he does with Mother’s. But then the first lock of hair falls to the ground, and the wind picks up slightly, and he feels like the trees are telling him that he’s safe; that they’re all safe here.  _ Don’t worry,  _ the forest seems to say,  _ no one will hurt you here. _

“I’m not,” Credence says. At Mr. Kowalski frown, Credence takes a breath before speaking again. “A girl, I mean. I’m not a girl.”

Mr. Kowalski’s frown softens into a slight look of surprise.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Credence thinks that he sounds genuine. “I shouldn’t have assumed. What should I call you?”

“Credence,” he answers. And, as Mr. Kowalski mouths the syllables to his name with a warm smile on his face and Chastity cuts the remainder of his hair off, Credence feels like maybe,  _ maybe _ , this forest will truly protect them.


	7. Chapter 7

The man’s name is Jacob and he’s a baker. He talks while they walk through the trees about his life, about the forest, about the group of children he’s been taking care of. He doesn’t go into details about the children, never says much beyond the fact that he found them and couldn’t think of leaving them on their own.

“Are you saying you saw a mysterious forest that shouldn’t be there and decided it’d be a great idea to go into it?” Director Graves asks when they stop to rest. Jacob looks at him for a second and shrugs.

“It was as if the forest was calling me,” he replies. “What else was I supposed to do?”

He’s a curious man, Tina’s come to realize. There’s nothing about him that doesn’t scream  _ no-maj _ at the top of its lungs; the way his eyes widens every time he sees any of them cast a spell, the little laughs he lets out whenever they talk about magic, the curiosity shining bright in his face at the sight of Newt’s little Bowtruckle. And yet, there’s something about the way he takes it all in—the forest, the magic, the creatures, the bizarreness of everything happening—that makes Tina do a double-take. It’s like he’s familiar with magic at least to some extent.

Tina asks him once. His only answer is a half shrug and a smile that lasts a second too long before he changes the subject. Afterward, she decides there are more important things going on to worry about Jacob right now.

***

Time moves differently inside the forest. Tina has noticed this before, during their first day inside the forest, but it seems even more obvious now.

“I could’ve sworn it wasn’t that far away,” Jacob says, a frown on his usually cheerful face, as they settle around a fire, the fifth one since he started walking with them. “It took me only about an hour to find you people.”

Newt, cooking some of the food they’ve brought with them, frowns at his words. Director Graves, whose face seems to move between bafflement and irritation at the forest’s antics, shakes his head.

“Fantastic,” he mutters. “It shifts.”

Silence settles around them, interrupted only by the sound of sizzling food and crackling fire. Tina looks at the ground, at the fallen leaves and twigs that cover it, her mind running a mile a minute in an attempt to  _ understand _ .

“I think it makes sense,” Queenie says from her side. “Shifting would make the task easier if it  _ were _ protecting someone.”

“It would keep people who mean harm from finding them,” Newt says with a nod. “Jacob means no harm, so he could find his way around easily. But maybe it thinks we do, maybe it doesn’t trust us enough to let us see who it’s protecting.”

***

They keep walking. There’s nothing else they can do. If the shifting theory is true, they won’t find Jacob’s kids or a way out any time soon. But they can’t stay in the same place, either, can’t risk being so exposed.

When they camp at night, Director Graves walks around the trees, muttering spells to reveal the magic behind the forest; or an exit; or an answer. Nothing ever works. Newt ties little red strings to some of the trees they pass. Every so often, they all reach a part of the forest they are sure they’ve never been to, only to see Newt’s red strings tied to a branch or a trunk.

And when morning comes, they pack their camp and continue walking. Eventually, Tina thinks, something will have to change.

***

Newt slips inside their suitcase one evening as Queenie works on lighting up a fire, and stays there for longer than they normally would. When dinner is ready, some hours later, Director Graves looks at the suitcase intently for a second before shaking his head. Tina looks at it too and stands to walk towards it. She hasn’t been down there since that first night, but the steps down feel familiar, somehow.

The shed at the end of the staircase is empty and, for a second, Tina fears that they’ve wandered off into the forest and gotten lost without any of the others noticing. But then there’s a yelping noise and a laugh, and then Newt comes through a door Tina hadn’t noticed before, carrying a small creature in his hands.

They look happier than they’ve looked since they arrived in New York, face free of worries, smile wide, eyes crinkling at the corners. The creature they’re carrying squirms and chirps, but it seems like it’s only doing it to be difficult, not because of any real discomfort.

Newt laughs again as they settle the little creature on top of a table. Only then do they notice Tina standing at the bottom of the stairs. The smile on their face doesn’t disappear, not quite, but it turns sheepish as they let the creature run from the table and into one of the shelves. From behind the now open door, Tina can hear the sounds of other creatures roaming around.

“Do you have a permit for the creatures?” She asks with a raised eyebrow. Newt looks down at the table, shrugs. Tina is patient and waits for them to order their thoughts before they reply.

“I couldn’t leave them all in England,” they say, but their tone is as good as a confession. “Some of them need me around, and the others can help if we ever meet a threat too great.”

There’s an unsaid plea behind their words, a request to keep quiet and not tell anyone who might wish the creatures ill. Tina looks at them for a long time before sighing.

“Can I see them?” she asks. The bright smile Newt gives in reply tells her she’s made the right decision.

***

“What if there’s a pattern?” Jacob asks one morning, as they pack their camp. A red string hangs from a tree branch where it hadn’t been there the night before. From her place against a tree trunk, Tina frowns, considering. They’ve talked about the forest a couple of times since determining its shifts, passing theories back and forth in the dead of night and discarding them just as quick.

From Jacob’s side, Newt stands with a loud gasp, hands clutching at the fabric of their coat and a big smile on their face.

“Nothing’s truly random in nature,” they say. “Even if magic is involved, it would require far too much energy and power to make a random shift.”

“I thought we’d already established this person is very powerful, though,” Tina replies, brow furrowing further. There’s nothing more frustrating than having to discard a new theory so soon after having come up with it.

“Yes,” Newt replies, still smiling, “but I doubt Merlin himself could manage a spell that great and keep it up for this long. We might be able to find our way through if we can figure what the pattern is.”

“We’d need to be able to predict the shifts to find the pattern,” Director Graves says, arms crossed. He has a considering look on his face, though, and Tina can almost see him run numbers and probabilities in his mind.

Silence falls around them, and Tina’s almost given up hope again when Newt speaks up. They are looking at the ground with a look of deep determination; the look of someone who’s just made a terribly hard decision in the span of a couple seconds.

“Dougal might be able to help with that.”


	8. Chapter 8

Newt goes down their suitcase’s steps two at a time, ideas running wild around their head as their mind jumps from one possibility to the next. They breeze through the shed with quick steps and go through the door to the habitats room. Inside, their creatures take in their hurry and follow them some steps behind until they reach Dougal’s nook towards the back.

He looks at them from his hiding spot with huge eyes and an annoyed rumbling noise. He knows, of course, that Newt has come to disturb him.

“I need your help, little guy,” Newt says, offering him a red apple in an attempt to convince him to help. Dougal’s rumble gets louder for a moment and Newt closes his eyes, expecting a bite. It never comes, though. Instead, Dougal takes the apple with a resigned noise and eats it in a couple of bites before jumping on Newt's shoulders. Newt smiles and scratches his head in a fond and familiar movement that has Dougal purring like a cat. “Thank you. I knew I could count on you.”

***

Director Graves isn’t impressed at the sight of Dougal wrapped around Newt’s back. He curses under his breath, rubbing his temples with a frown, before looking Newt dead in the eye.

“How many?” He asks. Newt looks at the floor, an uneasy smile playing on their lips.

“Pardon?”

“How many more creatures are you hiding inside that damn case?”

“I don’t think the answer will reassure you, sir,” Newt replies, if only to see the way Director Grave’s face twists into an angry grimace before he deflates against a tree trunk with a resigned sigh.

“Just help us fix this mess and I’ll consider overlooking the creatures,” Director Graves mutters, walking a few steps away from them. Behind his back, Newt’s smile widens just a bit.

“I’ll need something to guide Dougal.” Newt turns towards Jacob with expectant eyes. The man stares back for a second before fumbling with his pack. He pulls a wooden spoon after a second.

“The kids have another one of these,” he says. “Will it work?”

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Newt says as he passes Dougal the spoon. The Demiguise gives it a long unimpressed look before jumping off Newt into the ground.

***

Walking with a Demiguise as a guide is about as easy as you’d expect. It only takes Newt a couple of minutes of following Dougal to cast a spell that will keep him from separating too much from their party. Dougal grunts and hisses at it, but Newt really can’t risk him disappearing through the trees and leaving them all stranded right now.

Every so often, Newt can see Dougal’s eyes shine before he takes a sharp turn to one side. The longer they walk, the more common these turns become. The forest, Newt thinks, has realized what they are doing, is trying to lose them.

An hour later, a pattern becomes obvious. Not to Newt, of course—the forest is too great for them to really analyze and predict its shifts—, but to Dougal. The Demiguise begins walking faster, more sure of the turns and stops their group must make to stay on the path, more eager to find the kids and be left alone. Newt couldn’t blame him if they wanted.

So the group follows Dougal, steps quicker every time. From behind them, Newt can hear Jacob laugh at something Tina’s said, can hear Director Graves mumble about paperwork, can hear Queenie whisper about the forest.

Newt focusses their attention on following Dougal’s quickening steps. Though the speed is not a problem, used as they are to running after their creatures, they feel the need to give him as much of their attention as possible. If something were to happen, if something were to  _ change _ , they would have to protect, not just their creature, but also their companions. And knowing this makes their mind spin with worry.

***

The group doesn’t stop when the night falls. They’ve been walking all day and there’s not one of them that isn’t tired to the bone. But they all know, without having to discuss it with each other, that stopping will mean losing all the progress they’ve made during the day. 

So they press on, through the weariness and the aches and the sleep that threatens to drown them all. They press and walk, faster and faster until the trees around them become nothing more than a blur. Jacob pulls snacks out of his pack whenever someone talks about eating, and Tina shares with the others potions that will keep their energies replenished, and with this and nothing more they keep walking.

***

It all comes to a rather abrupt end halfway through the night. Or halfway through the day. Time has become unclear, nothing more than a vague mirage they can make out through the fog that the forest has become in their eyes. However the case, it all ends, finally, after what feels like years of walking.

Newt is the first to see it, being the one at the front, and the sight stops them dead on their tracks. The movement pulls Dougal back slightly, but the Demiguise seems as enthralled as they are and doesn’t complain about it. Behind them, the others stop as well, and though Newt can’t see their faces, they can almost imagine the fascinated look in their eyes.

In front of them, a clearing extends for miles and miles, bordered by a few trees with bright leaves. Unlike the rest of the forest, the clearing’s floor is covered in soft moss, like a giant mattress for one to walk on. There’s a patch, in the middle, where the moss gives way to a circle of rocks that guard a fire between them. And there, next to the fire, are three kids, sitting and talking in hushed voices, their faces to the blue sky above them.

Merlin, the sky. Newt’s eyes can’t help but be drawn up and up and up, towards the light blue and the soft clouds and the sun that peaks through one side. It feels unreal, seeing so much of the sky after so many days under the forest’s leaves. It feels ephemeral, like a wisp of smoke that will be blown away at a moment’s notice.

And then the moment breaks, the kids feel their presence and turn to look at them, three pairs of bright eyes full of fear, full of apprehension. And Newt, who has never in their life seen these kids before, feels like someone’s ripping a piece of their heart for every scared look they get from them.


	9. Chapter 9

Mr. Kowalski leaves in the morning to search for a way out and doesn’t come back for some days. During his absence, the forest provides for Credence and his sisters. There’s always food waiting for them at the base of the trees, and the fire never dies out. They find a trunk, too, with clean clothes and warm blankets for them to use as they like, and a pair of trousers and a shirt so Credence can get rid of Mother’s nightgown.

Under almost any other circumstance, Credence would be afraid of the magic—because it can’t be anything other than magic—that seems to control the forest, that seems to know their every need before any of them even thinks of it. He’s decided not to make a fuss about it, though, considering this forest has been taking care of them like no one except maybe Mr. Kowalski ever has. And it’s a sad thought, that, having a forest that cares about you more than the people in your life.

Chastity rolls her eyes the few times he brings it up, tells him to let things run their course as they need to. She doesn’t seem too convinced by the forest, now that they've been here for a while, but she’s never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Credence thinks that maybe he could be a bit more like her sometimes.

And then Mr. Kowalski is back, a small group of adults crowding around him, and can’t help the erratic pacing of his heart at the sight.

***

There’s silence in the clearing as Mr. Kowalski’s group looks at Credence and his sisters with wide eyes. They look weary, tired, like someone who’s been on the road for a long time and has endured many hardships during that time. They look like him, Credence thinks, after a full day around Mother, except there’s no fear in their eyes, he doesn’t think.

“I didn’t think it’d work,” one of them finally says, hand clutching around a leather suitcase while the other buries itself deep inside a coat pocket. Mr. Kowalski opens his mouth wide, looking like he’s about to go on a rant, but then his eyes fix on Credence and he shakes his head.

“Credence,” he says, voice soft, careful. “These are friends. They’re here to help us find a way out of the forest.”

His words send a shiver down Credence’s spine. They can’t leave the forest, they  _ can’t _ . If they leave, Credence and Chastity and Modesty will have to go back to Mother, will have to go back to the Church, will have to go back to being afraid. Truth be told, Credence is tired of being afraid, of having to keep his eyes on the floor, of the pain and the tears and, and—

The shiver grows and grows, travels around Credence’s body until he can feel it leaving him completely, until it reaches the ground and spreads, until the trees and the fire and the ground are all shaking too. And the adults, they are shaking too, eyes even wider as they look around with frantic moves. They are wave sticks in the air, shouting things that Credence doesn’t understand and he can’t hear their words because the wind’s picking up and the air is charged, like it wants to unleash a storm around them, and there’s so much noise and so much happening and Credence  _ isn’t afraid _ . Because he knows the forest will protect him, will protect those he cares for. And that’s all he’s ever wanted.

The noise keeps growing, as does the shaking, until it’s hard to stay upright. And then it keeps building and growing and becoming more and more and then there’s a sound; a soft voice, barely more than a whisper, but to Credence’s ears it rings louder than any scream, freezes his blood in its veins.

“You have to stop this,” Modesty says, “before they find out.”

***

Everything around him is deafeningly quiet as the shaking stops. Mr. Kowalski’s friends look around them with wild, careful eyes, like they’re expecting an animal to jump at them. But Credence can’t focus on them, when Modesty and Chastity are looking at him like he’s going to break into a thousand pieces any second.

There are questions running around his mind, trying to claw their way up his throat, but he can’t make them leave his mouth. He just stares at his sisters, mouth open, eyes skipping from one to the other, waiting, hoping, something will make sense soon. It doesn’t.

Credence feels like the air doesn’t reach his lungs, feels like his vision blurs and fades as he looks at his sisters. And then there’s a hand on his shoulder, a reassurance even if he can’t quite see who it’s coming from, and he closes his eyes and feels something inside of him  _ snap _ .

***

They sit around the fire, afterward. Around them, the forest seems to be slowly falling apart, like the ashes that come after great flames.

“We thought you knew,” Modesty says, voice small, afraid, and Credence  _ hates _ it with all his soul, hates hearing her like that. “Things happened when you were afraid and we thought you knew it was you causing them. It had to be you.”

Her words sound reasonable when she says them, but Credence knows that’s only because of the way she says them. Because none of that makes any sense, none of what he’s heard since the shaking makes any sense.

“We never talked about it because we didn’t want Mother to find out,” Chastity says, eyes fixed on the fire. A fire Credence apparently is responsible for.

The adults have talked, since the shaking; have told him about magic, about control, about people like him, about accidental magic, about spells too powerful for anyone but the one who cast them to break them. And his sisters have talked too; about Mother and fear and weird happenings and breaking things. And Credence has done nothing but look at the branches above their heads that seem weaker and less real with every passing second.

Next to him, Tina, the woman he met all that time ago, puts her hand on his shoulder again, talks in a soft voice, to not scare him. He would appreciate it any other time. But now, he thinks nothing can fully calm him down.

“Some of our friends are stuck in this forest,” she says, and Credence doesn’t miss how there’s no judgment in her voice. “We need you to end this magic so that they can go back home. So that we can all go back home.”

“I can’t,” Credence says, voice trembling. Tina’s eyes soften as much as her voice.

“If you don’t know how we can help you figure it out. We can teach you.” She sounds hopeful. She, unlike Credence, is eager to go home, to go back to her normal magical life. Credence shakes his head when she opens her mouth again to continue talking.

“We can’t go back there,” he says and winces at the desperate tone of his voice. “You don’t know what she’s like. We’re safer here.”

Tina looks at the ground with sorrow in her eyes.

“I once told you that you could come to me if you ever wanted to leave. That offer still stands. Once we leave the forest, I’ll take you away from your mother. I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

And the thing is, Credence wants to believe her, wants to believe in safety and warmth. He’s tired of fear, but he’s also tired of running and hiding. And it’s that tiredness that makes him hope, even despite his promises to himself, even despite all that’s happened in his past. So Credence closes his eyes and focuses on letting go of the fear and the pain and the past and everything that have made him for so long. And, along with those feelings, the forest finally crumbles.


	10. Epilogue

“What now?” Queenie asks when they are home again. Tina leans against the kitchen counter, watching with a soft smile as Newt tries to awkwardly explain to the kids what a Bowtruckle is. It’s kind of endearing, how out of their element they are around children, and how enthralled the kids seem to be by their words and their creatures. Next to her, Queenie laughs softly at her thoughts.

“I don’t know,” she replies. “Director Graves said he’d do everything in his power to keep Credence from facing repercussions, but only time will tell what will happen next.”

“But they’re staying here?” Queenie asks, using that tone of here that makes it obvious she already knows the answer but wants to hear it anyways.

“For as long as they wish it.” Queenie smiles, nods. Tina closes her eyes, focuses on the laughs coming from the living room. There are still many things to be done, many hours of work before the kids’ lives can settle into something resembling normalcy. This is a good starting point, though, a good introduction into their new world. And that, she thinks, will have to be enough, at least for now.


End file.
